


Superbia [Pride]

by Blvquebird



Series: The Vice Chronicles. [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Dark!Jon, Dark!Sansa, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, Jealousy, Loss of Innocence, Manipulation, Pride, Rough Sex, Seven Deadly Sins, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-11-07 10:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17958977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blvquebird/pseuds/Blvquebird
Summary: "I never had secretsUntil her.Sansa. My sister.My love."Sequel to Invidia [Envy] told from Jon's point of view. His version of the events they both can't help but recall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Pride is the worst viper that is in the heart, the greatest disturber of the soul's peace, the most difficultly rooted out, and is the most hidden, secret and deceitful of all lusts, and often creeps in, insensibly, and sometimes under the disguise of humility."- Jonathan Edwards
> 
> The third work in series of extended stories/scenarios based on the seven deadly sins. Will be primitive. Dark. Carnal... like the capital vices.
> 
> Enjoy.

I don’t have many secrets.  
  
I never have.  
  
No… I lie.  
  
I never _had_ secrets.  
  
My life, was intended to be simple.  
  
You see, I am a bastard.  
  
My name as cold and hollow as the flakes that bleach the towers in winter.  
  
My name… it’s significance, or lack thereof full of blemish and mar.  
  
I had nothing.  
  
I deserved nothing.  
  
You pity me.  
  
Yes, it’s all there. On your face. The stink of sympathy. You think me unfortunate. A casualty in the crossfire of my parents’ irresponsible agendas.  
  
I need not your concern.

I’m not a stranger to happiness.  
  
It had arrived late in my life.  
  
But arrived nonetheless  
  
I had not known the sensation. The genuine sensation…  
  
Until that day…  
  
I never had secrets  
  
Until her.  
  
Sansa. My sister.  
  
My love.  
**************************************************************************  
I’d woken. My Direwolf’s white fur obstructing my senses. A wet sensation warming my cheek as the roughness of his tongue lapped at me.  
  
He wanted me to wake.

I conceded.  
  
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Focused them on the pit of fire that had gone out in the night. The embers still crackling against the Weirwood.  
  
Still paralyzed with lethargy, I scanned my space. My quarters a small collecting of trinkets. My wooden sword to spar, my rune basin to wash the earth from me.  
  
I pondered briefly on what I should occupy my time with that day. I saw the frost on the sills. Resolved I needed more wood for the fire.  
  
As father always said, Winter is coming.  
  
I stood, let my wolf’s fur graze the leg of my trousers as I shook my locks from my face. I walked near the rune basin near the window, let the cool of the water run though my hair, my stubble. I’d need a trim. Resolved to sharpen my knives and take care of it later.  
  
The sound of metal and wood clanging piqued my senses. I peered lazily through the wet hanging from the black of my curls.  
  
The Bolton bastard, was sparring. In our courtyards.  
  
I recognized him, his sloppy stance. His manic laughter. I’d forgotten his family had planned this visit a fortnight prior. Heard father speaking to Jory Cassel about it at supper one evening.  
  
He was near the smith’s workshop.  
  
His stance. It vexed me. A bastard like I, however at least my father had the decency of providing a savvy fencing tutor. He was swinging his broadsword. No form. No discipline.  
  
His laughter was echoing like a banshee though the courtyard.  
   
The poor lad on the receiving end of his strokes was a novice. Barely able to defend his position.  
  
Poor lad.  
  
But this was none of my concern. I held back a petty sneer before making to attend to my affairs.  
  
Until I saw a streak of crimson, making its way over to that banshee like laughter.  
  
The relish at the poor stewards boy’s pain.  
  
It was my half-sister.

Naïve. Foolish.  
  
Her red hair flaming against the summer sun.

Her hand was extended.  
  
Naïve. Foolish.

I could tell, from up here in my attic. Her innocent assumption that that he’d show gentlemanly behavior.  
  
She was thinking he’d halt his blows.  
  
She was mistaken.  
  
I hard her gasp, saw the spray of red stain the snow at her feet.  
  
He’d slashed her collar.  
  
She fell to the ground.  
  
He turned his attention to her.  
  
I felt a surge in my blood stream. Hotter than fire, I was bracing myself. As I saw she was. Her arm was readied above her face. He was walking towards her.  
  
what could I do?  
  
I threw my feet out from my window, slid down the steps aided by the ice that hugged the railings.  
  
Three strides, and his mail was in my grip.  
  
My fist made contact with his pock-marked jaw.  
  
A rage as mad as the Targaryen kings encompassed my being. Blow after blow till crimson wrapped my hands.  
  
Ramsay’s form lay limp in the dirt.  
  
My breathing was heavy, I noticed the heat from the sun and the sting from the cool winter arm biting my back. I’d jumped from the balcony so quick I hadn’t remembered to dawn a tunic.  
  
Ramsay was bloodied. I felt no pity. It was safe to let him where he lied.  
  
I turned towards my sister, lifted her to her feet and onto my back. She weighed nothing. She latched to my back. Her heartbeat against my back. Rapid.  
  
Naïve. She was in shock.  
  
I took the time not to climb too quickly. Lest I make her blood rush.  
  
Ghost licked my face once I opened the door. This enthusiasm amplified by my impromptu guest, no doubt.  
  
She didn’t seem to mind him. I sense she liked the pup.  
  
Speaking of senses, once I set her down, the wafting air filled mine with her scent.  
  
Lavender. Lemon. It permeated me quarters aided by the fire I lit.  
  
Only a second I had to take this in before she began to fidget, raising her hands cloaked in earth to her neck. She was bleeding. Her collar soaked.  
  
No stranger to blood, I attempted to stop her.  
  
_‘"Wait. Your hands are muddied. You’ll infect it.’"_ I told her.  
  
She listened but did not speak.  
  
A commonality she shared with my Wolf.  
  
I held my stone basin toward her, something told me I’d need it today.  
  
She dipped her hands into its contents. I watched her wince. Her blue eyes the color of sky. Rimmed with red—the tears she was damming back.  
  
I pulled the basin away when she was through and took up a needle and thread. If I didn’t mend her there’d be questions.  
  
I needed no reason to want the opposite of an interrogation. My stepmother…  
  
I’ve never been one to jest so I’ll make it plain.  
  
She abhorred me. I’d prefer not to aid her in any more ammunition in that regard.  
  
And of course, she was my sister…  
  
Stark in my resolve I moved towards her.  
  
With reflexes I was unaware she had, my hands were pushed away as quickly as they came.  
  
And one more on my second attempt.  
  
Ah, I see…  
  
Perhaps she abhorred me, too.  
  
It would be no surprise. The way her mother avoided me.  
  
Perhaps I was a stranger to her… from her body language. It was clear she was not comfortable enough to let me near with a needle.  
  
So different she was, from Arya.  
  
Tully pride, coursing through those blue eyes. I stared into them, and after a moment of consideration obliged.  
  
She spent her hours in the towers. Perfecting her sewing. I heard the maidens praise her at suppers. Arya remark with irritation.  
  
If I was stranger to her, it was of no consequence. A needle and thread clearly weren’t.  
  
She could manage herself, then.  
  
I placed the tools in her hand. Then dragged a mirror in front of my face.  
  
I waited.  
  
She paused. I watched her over the mirror. I hadn’t intended for my morning to develop in such a manner.  
  
Funnily enough, I suspected she hadn’t either.  
  
The embarrassment seeping from her was palpable.  
  
I left it alone. I was never one to rub salt in a wound.  
  
I heard a thinly veiled groan.  
  
Embarrassment, confirmed.  
  
A few moments had passed as I watched her. A strange stitch she was sewing.  
  
It was awkward.  
  
Summoning up the strength to break up the tense attitude that filled my quarters, I spoke.  
  
Trivial but again, her mother abhorred me.  
  
She avoided me.  
  
We barely spoke.  
  
Alone that is.  
  
_"What stitch is that?’  
  
_She looked surprised. Surprised I wasn’t as mute as my pup was perhaps.  
  
_"A butterfly stitch’"_  she said with hesitation.  
  
Of course it was. I thought.  
  
I continued to observe her. The myriad of thinly veiled emotions crossing her face as she stitched. The stress leaking from her cheeks. The were pink when I sat her down. Now flushed red with worry.  
  
She looked at me. It was only then that I realized how blue those eyes really were. They were large. Honest. She was asking me something.  
  
I answered her wordless request.  
  
_‘" I won’t tell.’"_ I rasped.  
  
It was then that the color in her face rushed back so suddenly that she lost her equilibrium.  
  
On instinct my hand shot out to steady her.  
  
Her skin.  
  
So different from mine.  
  
No callouses. No bruising. Save for a bit of earth there was no blemish on her skin. The contrast between my hard-worked digits and her manicured fingers burned.

Still I did not let her go, ‘til she stilled.  
  
_‘"Thank you.’"_ She whispered to me.  
  
I reckon it was all she could surrender to me. I gleaned an apology from it. I had a feeling he pride and embarrassment would not let her say the words aloud.  
  
It sufficed.  
  
As much as she attempted to promote an air of indifference, my eyes burned through her shroud.  
  
And I could see it.  
  
Whether I wanted to or not.  
  
I exposed her…  
********************************************************************  
  
I’d never seen anything quite like it.  
  
The privilege, she was privy to.  
  
My sister, did not always tell the truth.  
  
Questions were raised about the beating I subjected the Dreadfort bastard to. In her defense, I suspect she needed to cloak her position in the matter. She was a princess, after all. Any sign of roughness between two bastards would be an outrageous scandal. As delicate as she was, if it were made known she’d never be able to go out on her own without chaperone.  
  
I came to this realization the moment she interrupted my would-be admission to the whole ordeal.  
  
She told a tale about.  
  
I don’t believe the septa believed her.  
  
I watched. As I always do. Observed as it all played out and the effortless way, though skeptical the adults were, she got her way.  
  
_“Gods…”_ I thought. _“Sheer luck?”_  
  
No. This was more calculated. My sister, was calculated.  
  
But I said nothing. I was never one to say much.  
  
And I surmised, my honesty would no more damage to her and her calculated attempts at freedom.  
  
My silence her alibi.  
*********************************************************************************************************  
The Dreadfort bastard left the next day.

The old gods’ reciprocity, perhaps.  
  
What came next for me was the reciprocity I’m not sure I was ready for.  
  
What came next changed everything.  
  
If only I had known, how my actions that day would affect me. Affect us. How everything that occurred and the thereafter would be my sole focus in life.  
  
How she, would be the sole focus in my small and meaningless life.  
  
A fire, as brilliant as her locks, ignited the minute I peered out my balcony window that morning.  
  
I didn’t choose the subsequence that become the series of events between us  
  
The choice… It was not mine.  
  
Fate intervened that day.  
*****************************************************************************************************************  
Fate.  
  
I minded my menial affairs after the incident.  
  
Better that than draw attention to myself.  
  
I sparred, fished, rode with my brothers. With Arya.  
  
But that fire.  
  
It haunted me in my sleep.  
  
A flash of red. The pulse of blue as blinding as sapphires kissed my senses as the weight of sleep covered me.  
  
I found myself awakening at odd hours in the mornings. Drenched in beads of sweat.  
  
I used my rune basin filled with cool water to temper the fire building in me… the fire identical to her hair.  
  
_Fuck._  
*********************************************************************************************************************  
  
Everything was the same.  
  
Almost everything…  
  
My senses were keen. Ghost and I would hunt in the fields searching for the evening’s kill. I was aware of everything around me.  
  
Including her.  
  
Her.  
  
Sansa, and her would-be attempts to feign interest in the herbs around us.  
  
I did enough hunting to know when prey was sidling nearby.  
  
This went on for nearly a fortnight.  
  
And it wasn’t just confined to the space of the woods. I caught whiffs of her Lavender and Lemon in the courtyards when I sparred with the others.  
  
Glimpses of her eyes when I chopped wood for the fires.  
  
It became too plain to ignore any longer when I heard the linens of her skirts rustled against the grass one afternoon.  
  
I peered over my shoulder. I know she saw my silver gaze screen her.  
  
I spoke to her. For about the fifth time in our lives.  
  
_"If you’re going to pretend, you should at least pick the ones that do something and not just the dandelions, weeds and yarrow.’"_ Isaid  lazily _._  
  
_"You know, to make your endeavors more… convincing.’"  
  
_She rouged.  
  
I smirked.  
  
If she wouldn’t be outright with her intent, I’d force it out of her.  
  
I sensed the truth was something she hadn’t quite figured out how to exhibit.  
  
And in that moment I knew.  
  
What she wanted at least.  
  
She was lonely.  
  
I made things simple, for the both of us.  
  
Made an agreement that day that would change my life forever.  
  
Took her in hand and led her to the poppy and peppermint. _  
**************************************************************  
_From that day forward, something was set in stone between the two of us.  
  
I cannot lie, the days the followed after were some of the happiest of my life. They flowed, effortlessly.  
  
I know she felt it too.  
  
With Sansa, despite everything, my station, hers, the consequences…  
  
With that much freedom, I never minded them.  
  
With her I felt free.  
  
She was quiet, and so was I so the nature of our relationship maintained it’s anonymity.  
  
I found myself concerned about everything, everything she did. She was desperate for a friend and I have to admit,  
  
So was I.  
  
She asked me things. To teach her things. How to ride, not side-saddled as was proper for ladies of the court. But how I rode. How Arya rode. She was stubborn. She would not let me say no.  
  
There were moments where I wouldn’t allow it. However, one look into the cool of her blue eyes and the words were coaxed out of me. _  
  
“Alright.”_ I replied.  
  
And she would glow. Gods, I’d say yes for a thousand years just to see the light in her face.  
  
I made her labor for it though.  
  
To be the antithesis of the very duties she detested, I trained her that becoming more like me, like Arya and Robb meant standing your ground. Hard work.  
  
Honesty.

I would not let her lie to me. Nor the others, if I could help it.

Yet here I am, lying to all of you…  
  
I said I’d wanted a friend as well. But the events that followed proved to me that this was not the truth... _  
******************************************************************************************************************************  
_It was the afternoon, I’d finished chopping the wood for the fires that evening by the lake.  
  
I’d been yearning for the smell of lavender to fill my senses the whole time.  
  
I got my wish.  
  
Turned to see her, the aroma of lemon filling the air as she walked towards me.  
  
She looked different. More groomed than usual her hair was braided beautifully but I could sense she was not comfortable in her new fashions.  
  
She was fidgeting. Would not look me in the eye directly.  
  
I knew when she did that she was holding back, nervous.  
  
I reached my hand in her hair to remedy the situation. Pulled the pins holding her tresses up out of her locks. They felt like silk against my callous and raw hands.  
  
I found the strength the step back from her, her tendrils falling in waves against her rose tinted cheeks. _  
  
“Better.” __I stated.  
  
_She rouged over but began to laugh. The melody of her mirth filling me like dragon fire.  
  
I found myself filled with chuckles myself, especially once I handed her the pins and asked what she would have me do with them.  
  
A moment later I was pushed into the lake.  
  
retribution, I’d taught her too well. Did not realize how strong she’d become.  
  
Her reflexes still, were not as quick as mines.  
  
I pulled her in with me.  
  
A tidal wave of water consumed us.  
  
I then remembered that I’d never taught her to swim.  
  
Ghost and Lady must’ve recalled, I felt their strokes powering through the water.  
  
I reached for her stomach, wrapped my arms around her small waist and pulled her up.  
  
Th moment our heads broke the surface I heard her gasp and still I was consumed with laughter.  
  
Consumed with laughter… and something else…  
  
I’d only just noticed how warm she was, even through the cool of the lake water.  
  
How close she was pressed against me.  
  
The feel of her… her breasts…

Then her lips.  
  
The feel of her lips were suddenly pressed against mine. I hadn’t the luxury of prepping myself.  
  
But the feel of her. _  
  
Godsss…  
__  
_ Against everything my mind knew, my instincts were stronger.

My instincts took over.

And I kissed her back.  
  
She was sweet, my tongue dipper into her mouth. My wolf’s instincts had become my own and I bit her lip.  
  
I wanted to devour her.  
  
My brain, stopped functioning. The only thing still alert were the primal instincts her tongue against mine were fueling.

I pulled her closer. It was easy with the water as my guide. I reached bellow her buttocks, it was not enough to have her pressed against me,

I wanted all of her.  
  
She felt the same.  
  
I know she did..  
  
Her body was telling me everything her words couldn’t, not with the iron grip I had on her tongue.  
_  
Ohhhh,_ _but the iron grip she had on my hair…  
  
_I made her wrap her legs around my waist.  
  
I felt my manhood harden, heard a gasp escape her. Watched her eyes close and fought to keep mine open as I felt her begin to move on her own. Without my assistance.  
  
She was churning the water between us, with her fervor. It was lighting a fire in me.  
  
My teeth bit her lips harder. I was no longer in control It took every ounce.  
  
Every ounce  
  
of my being to keep from slipping her petticlothes aside and become one with her right there. In the water.

I’d never wanted something more than I did in that moment.  
  
Not even the desire for the last name, Stark.  
  
The last name Stark…

The honor that evaded me like a stag on a hunt.  
  
My senses rushed back to me like the waves that had fell around us when we fell into the  lake.  
  
I was drowned.  
  
In shame.  
  
The dishonor of letting my hunger cause me to behave like a starved beggar.  
  
But I was starved, and Sansa… Sansa was my feast. The feast I didn’t deserve.  
  
My eyes grew wide.  
  
She felt my break... made to pull me back to her.  
  
I kept her at bay.  
  
Avoided the look in her eyes that questioned why I’d stopped.  
  
It begun to rain… The gods had seen my folly, perhaps they were sending the torrent to wash the sin I’d just committed.

I was shivering. I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold, my arousal, or the shame that Id let myself loose control so easily.  
  
How could she do this to me? So easily?  
  
I led us both out of the water, saw she was chilled to the bone as well. Pulled a cloak out of the saddle bag latched to the horse and wrapped it around her. Led us all back to the castle.  
  
Silent. _  
***********************************************************************  
_

It was late, when we arrived back at the castle courtyard. People would wonder where she’d been if she waltzed into the dinner halls  
  
Wet.  
  
My balcony was the next best thing that would suffice.  
  
_“Come”_ I commanded to her.  
  
She obeyed. Let me help her up the steps.  
  
The fire was still lit when I’d pushed the doors to my quarters open.  
  
She fell to my bed mechanically.

I could see her from my peripheral, the way her damp clothes clung to her skin. The flush of her cheeks. I could feel the heat coming from her…  
  
Or perhaps it was the fire..  
  
Or my own insane lust boiling beneath the thin of my skin. I couldn’t tell.  
  
I couldn’t look at her. I did not trust myself to not loose all control. _  
  
“Sansa…”_ I finally croaked. _  
  
“Yes…”_ _S_ he replied. I could hear the anticipation in her voice. The same sentiments that I tried to hide behind mine. Still I couldn’t look at her. _  
  
“We can’t”_ _I_ said, attempting to put a finality in my tone that was beyond contestation.  
  
She would here none of it.  
  
The Stark pride. I was surprised. But not as surprised as I thought I’d be. She was stubborn. And gods, she could not have picked a more disagreeable time for such hard-headedness. _  
  
_She commanded me instead. _  
  
_Asked me to look her in the eyes, when I said it.  
  
Reluctantly, against all my better judgments, I obliged her.  
  
My eyes locked on her blue gaze, it was desperate. Honest, brazen even. I did this to her. Birthed something I knew the both of us could not resist.  
  
I attempted anyway. I could not… I would not be the reason for her innocence lost. My resolve was somewhat firm… _  
  
“We ca-can’t”_ I repeated.  
_  
_ But my voice. It cracked underneath the lies I tried to tell her.. The lies I tried to tell myself.  
  
She inched closer to me and again the heat between us began to rise like smoke. Smoke that became a fire I knew I couldn’t put out.  
  
“I’m cold”, she whispered to me. Pulling closer to me, her damp hair nudging the base of my chin. _  
  
_It’s as if she was casting some sort of spell on me. But no… Magic only existed in the lands far east… _  
  
'I’m cold….' _The echo of it permeated the room.  
  
My hands lifted to her arms, grazed them slightly... It was the clothes. Damp and soaked form the cold of the lake.  
  
I began to relieve her of them  
  
Whether it was for concern of her catching a chill or something else, I did not know...  
_  
_ I did not know anything except for the fact that I preferred her naked in that very moment despite what I knew to be right. What she knew to be right.  
  
Her cloak came off, as did her gown, her petticlothes soaked. I wasn't entirely sure it was from the lake water.  
  
A surge of pride welled through me, knowing she was wet… because of me.  
  
I lost control.  
  
I lost the fight.  
  
Laid her naked form on the bed and smoothed her damp from her hair back from her face.  
  
I captured her lips in my mouth, laid my body on hers to stop her shivering.  
  
My breathing synched with hers as I let my lips travel down her neck. Her breasts... my hands grazed every part of her, I felt the softness of her skin contrast between the roughness of my calloused palms.  
  
Her breathing sped as I let my lips from a path down her breast, over her navel and at last, down the lips of her cunt.  
  
I only then realized, just how hungry I was.  
  
Hang my honor.  
  
What is honor? What is propriety to a starving man?  
  
So I ate.  
  
Gods, I _feasted._  
  
Damn a seat at the high table during supper.  
  
The only thing I ever wished to consume after that night, was her.  
  
I pulled my shirts from my back with an aggression I'd only ever seen in Ghost when he hunted...  
  
I sank back into her. I drank the wet nectar that seeped from her flower, pulled her legs to sit on my shoulders.  
  
I was famished.  
  
She began to writhe, began to croon, sounds I'd never heard a girl make before. Not even the girls I would hear Robb consort with in the evenings.  
  
I followed her movements with fervor. Began to suck again. I wanted to hear her croons turn to screams.  
  
Damn it all.  
  
And she obliged me. Began to clutch at my hair, scratches formed on my back.  
  
I didn’t want her to stop.  
  
Oh… she tried. To get me to cease. But I couldn’t. We’d come this far.  I was in too deep now.  
  
Excuse the expression.

So when she tried to escape, pull her hips from my lips. I grasped her waist and forced her back down to me.  
  
Like I said, I was famished.  
  
I lapped her up, she writhed more--- her moans raising an octave per minute.  
  
And then it hit, her body stiffened, I was ravenous... I did not stop.  
  
Even as she peaked and the sweet melody of her scream that I craved so deeply pierced the room.

My lips crashed to hers, as much as I wanted to hear the sweet song, I don’t believe Winterfell was ready for the performance.  
  
Her eyes shot open and met mine as she tasted herself on my lips.  
  
Her rapid heartbeat slowed, to match mine.  
  
And in that moment… I realized.

I loved....  
  
I loved her.

And hell. Hell would have me.

But I didn’t care.

It was established  between us.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I never had secrets
> 
> Until her.
> 
> Sansa. My sister.
> 
> My love."
> 
> Sequel to Invidia [Envy] told from Jon's point of view. His version of the events they both can't help but recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa continue their relationship. Naively. Foolishly.

I loved her.  
  
I loved her….  
  
So much so that I fought… tried to ignore every instinct I had in me.  
  
It didn’t last very long…  
  
You with your pity… your judgement… you wouldn’t understand how it feels. To fight your very body from rebelling against you. The strength it took everyday, when I’d have to keep my distance from her.  
  
When we’d supp with our parents… our siblings. The distance our very eyes would have to keep from each other lest an exchange betray the nature of our relationship.  
  
The fortitude it took to not give into my impulses. The fortitude it took not to give into her…  
  
My sister…  
  
She was more collusive that you’d think.  
  
She waited. She was patient… she knew it was only a matter of time before I’d give in.  
  
And when I gave in…  
  
_Godssssss…_ I would.  
  
I’d drink her, on the banks of the lake. In the stairwells in the wee hours of the morning. She’d sneak into my balcony quarters. When she’d lie to her mother and perform some false ‘task’ for the septas. She was eager to give me everything, so much so she would turn on me, take me in hand.  Make me milk in her mouth.  
  
Where she’d learned it, I have no idea.  
  
Instinct perhaps.  
  
She’d awoken something in me that made me damn all consequence. Despite what I knew.  Despite what was right…  
  
I was addicted to her.  
  
And the Old help me, everytime she made me laugh at her clumsiness, fear when she’d stumble or fall from her horse, ache at her moans or smile at her happiness… my addiction… it grew insatiable the more I was in her presence.  
  
Two years. Two years I fought the urge to become one with my sister.  
  
There were days I happily obliged to go on a hunt with Arya, Robb… Father.  
  
Anything. I’d do anything to fight the hold she had on me. To fight the gnawing need I had to be inside her.  
***************************************************************************************************************  
  
I’d find happiness though, utter happiness in the moments I shared with her.  
  
I know she did too…  
  
I loved my other siblings, Arya, Bran, baby Rickon, Robb… even Theon my father’s ward.  
  
But Sansa… she made me forget…  
  
She was my best friend…  
  
A friendship mixed with the tainted love we could never truly share..  
  
I was reminded of this, by my stepmother who could always be counted upon.  
  
House Cerwyn had come for a hunt, I’d joined them. They were amiable enough… I was skilled enough to kill that evenings feast.  
  
Skilled enough to kill the meal but illegitmate enough to be kept from the feast. Lady Catelyn saw that I wasn’t permitted to enter the hall that evening for fear of offending the nobility.  
  
Of course. How foolish of me to forget.  
  
So I made my peace with it.  
  
Visited the cook and had him set a loaf of bread and a rasher of bacon aside for me. Washed it down, back straight with the ale Robb passed me before I’d left.  
  
Worked my frustrations out on a practice dummy in the courtyards once night had fallen before I retired to my chambers.  
  
I’d burned through the meal just as quickly as I’d eaten it.  
  
I was hungry again.  
  
And like clockwork, I heard a soft wrapping  on my chamber door.  
  
Ghost beat me to the lock and nudged it open with his snout, let a delicate hand brush over his pelt before slipping out into the storm outside and letting her in.  
  
She kissed my lips, never minded that I was banned from supper.  
  
She knew I was famished.  
  
So she let me let down her skirts, lift her over my head and eat.  
  
All she ever wanted to do, was feed me. And I loved her for that.  
  
_Fuck_  
  
I loved that about her.  
  
But after she’d see white, after I would milk in her mouth, after I’d slip my fingers into her warmth, watch her intently as every expression forbidden between us would cross her face.  
  
After we’d whisper our secrets to each other…  
  
I’d realized, I could not tell her everything.  
  
I realized, there were things she just would not understand. Things I could not give her.  
  
You see, two years is ample time to realize certain things can simply never be.  
  
That _we_ , could never be.  
  
Not with the last name, Snow.  
  
Not with a ‘mother’ who abhorred me.  
  
Not when, I could not even sit with her at dinner.  
  
I could tell… she knew I was changing, before her very eyes.  
  
I did not want to look into that blue gaze and explain it all to her.  
  
So I’d let her sleep, in my arms as I’d lay awake at night. Stare at the ceilings when the wind blew and the snow fell.  
  
and ponder the empty life I would have if I stayed here.  
  
I needed a name.  
  
I wanted a name….  
************************************************************************************************************************  
Be careful what you wish for, aye?  
  
I got my wish…  
  
Uncle Benjen had come to visit, the evening of Sansa’s sixteenth nameday.  
  
He was a ranger in the Nights Watch.  
  
He asked me how I fared, I’d told him of my days. So he’d spoken to father and a plan was formed.  
  
I’d join him, at the Wall. Join the men that so proudly guarded the obelisk for thousands of years. Make something of myself. For my sake.  
  
And secretly, for hers.  
  
I’d prove useful. Somewhere.  
  
Perhaps I’d rise as well…  
  
Better this, than staying where I felt unwelcome.  
  
Better this than staying and living with an addiction that could destroy us both.  
  
At least that’s what I tried to explain to her that evening when she’d visited my chambers.  
  
She searched for me. At our usual haunts. The tower, the lake, the wood…  
  
All the while I’d said goodbye to Robb,  
  
Gifted Arya a sword called ‘Needle’.  
  
I’ll admit, I evaded her.  
  
I did not want to tell her.  
  
You see, I know my sister.  
  
I knew, she would not take the news well. I did not trust… myself with how I would deliver the message.  
  
She knew something was awry…  
  
She could read me, better than anyone… as I could her.  
  
So I said it.  
  
Told her I was to take the black.  
  
And her face…

Gods, her face…  
  
I lost my life that night, looking at her face.  
  
I’d broken hearts before.  
  
Told the chambermaids _‘no’_ when I was younger. Passed by the brothels of old town with Robb and refused the love of the maids who worked the inns.  
  
But Sansa… I’d just ended her world.  
  
Something in her broke.  
  
And a surge of guilt rushed over me so strongly I thought I’d suffocate. The silence lasted but a moment before I heard her scream at me.  
  
I could barely feel her pounding on my chest while she raged.  
  
I could not breathe.  
  
I knew it would come to this. I knew, she’d act this way. Still I wasn’t prepared for how much it pained me to see it.  
  
I closed my eyes while her iron grip clutched at my shirts. She was pleading now…  
  
Screaming.  
  
Begging me…  
  
Begging me not to go. She called it a glorified penal community.  
  
She as a viper when she was angry.  
  
I stood. Took it all. Let her get it all out. She fought me verbally. Physically.  
  
And then she told me…  
  
Told me she loved me.  
  
That I could not leave…  
  
_Oh Sansa…_  
  
Naïve. Foolish.  
  
How nice it must've been for her. To live in this world of fancy. I envied her. She could never understand. How much I loved her back. How addicted I was to her. How I could never be enough. Not in my current station. Not as her half-brother.  
  
We could never….  
  
We could never be…  
  
So I told her. How hollow my name felt to me. How if I stayed at our home, I’d never have one of my own.  
  
Her face mirrored that none of it mattered to her.  
  
And I loved her for that.  
  
But that was not the _point_.  
  
There are times when one must do what is best not only for themselves but for the ones they adore.  
  
And I adored her. _Gods_ , I adored her.  
  
It would be the death of all I held dear.  
  
So I continued. Told her I loved her too much to continue this with her. That it must end. That she deserved someone… else.  
  
Another.  
  
A man deserving of her maiden head. One who could give her titles, lands, legitimate heirs, security.  
  
The luxuries appropriate for a princess.  
  
The luxuries I could never give her.  
  
I wanted to vomit the moment I said _‘another man’_. The thought of it made me rage.  
  
Her eyes glazed over for a moment… she was no longer looking at me… Her face was in my hands now. I was trying to get her to focus.  
  
She began to fight me, again…  
  
Each sob she uttered made me hate myself more than I already did.  
  
So I remedied the situation.  
  
Did what I knew we did best.  
  
Chose a solution that would calm us both.  
  
I silenced her with a kiss.  
  
Feasted on her longer than I had any other night before. Held her steady as she brinked violently.  
  
Kissed her lips and let her fall asleep on my chest.  
  
I watched her… as she slept. Watched her tear-streaked faced inhale

Exhale.  
  
Listened to her moans… the words she’d say as she dreamed.  
  
She said my name… and my ears perked. I let my thumb caress the arch of her cheek bone..  
  
_“Jon…”_ she whispered.  
  
I made to kiss her…  
  
_“I’m here.”_ I crooned as I bent..  
  
My lips were an inch from hers  
  
And what I heard next ripped a knife through me

 _“I hate you.”  
  
_And it was what I deserved.  
  
I kissed her anyway. Pulled away and braced the volley of _“I hate you’s”_ until the wee hours of the morning.  
  
I resolved I would not wake her to have her say it to me out loud.  
  
Did her the courtesy of having her wake up alone.  
  
I could not say goodbye  
  
I left with Benjen that very morning.  
  
Someday she’d understand I did this for us.  
  
That I loved her… I loved her  
  
I loved her.  
*******************************************************************************  
Be careful what you wish for.  
  
I arrived at the Wall.

Surprised at what I saw.  
  
The stories I’d heard…were false.  
  
Indeed I’d arrived at a glorified penal community.  
  
Sansa was right.  
  
Perhaps she wasn’t so naïve.

Foolish.  
  
All this time I thought I was nothing.  
  
Quite the contrary, to them. I was a privileged bastard of a high lord. My training, superior against theirs anyway.  
  
I’d use it to my advantage then.  
  
I’d rise.

Made a few enemies, made a few friends while I did. One friend in particular,  
  
Sam.  
  
A robust, bookish outcast. An outcast.  
  
Like I.  
  
Still I rose.  
  
But I missed them…  
  
I missed her.  
  
Laid my head down and night and dreamt of those fire red locks. My lips on her cunt. Her mouth on my manhood. The scent of Lavender  and lemon…  
  
I sent letters as I rose.  
  
I was appointed steward to Lord Commander Mormont. My family had always respected the Mormonts.  
  
Twas a great honor.  
  
Honor….  
  
I wanted her to know it.  
  
I’d send my love to all of them.  
  
But mostly meant for her.  
  
She answered not one of them.  
  
I can’t say I was surprised….  
  
She still hated me...

*************************************************************************************  
So I sent more letters.  
  
Commander Jeor had fallen.  
  
And I was appointed in his place.  
  
The 998th Lord Commander, Snow.  
  
An honor I never thought I’d see.  
  
An honor I wasn’t sure I deserved.  
  
But I wanted her to know it. I craved her.  
  
I saw her. In my dreams. I drowned in her tears. Her her voice echoing.  
  
_‘I’m cold…’  
  
‘I’m cold’_  
  
My lips on hers as I tried to warm her. And when I’d wake, she was gone.  
  
She was haunting me.  
  
If only... If only she’d answer my letters. Why would she not answer me?  
****************************************************************************  
I couldn’t ponder on it very long.  
  
The things I saw at my time at the Wall… no man.. no man alive had lived to tell the tale.  
  
I saw the threat to the north… Our north. White walkers. The stuff of myth.  
  
And a tribe, a tribe called the Wildlings.  
  
Myself and a few of my black brothers had been sent on a mission north.  
  
Things went awry and for the first time… as an act of strategy, I had to commit my first kill.  
  
Qhorin. A good soldier.  
  
We were ambushed… I had every intent to kill my enemy.  
  
Until I saw a flash of red hair. Red… like Sansa’s…  
  
I hesitated.  
  
I should have never hesitated.  
  
I should have ended it right there.  
  
But I didn’t. What I could have prevented, if I didn’t.  
  
When she looked up at me as I drew my sword.  
  
I saw my sister.  
  
The blue gaze of the one I loved more than anything in this world.  
  
So I spared her.  
  
If only I’d known…  
  
If only I’d known…  
************************************************************  
I spent time with them.  
  
This ‘barbaric’ tribe that lived above us.  
  
They weren’t so different from us.. save for hygienics.  
  
Save for propriety.  
  
They looked like us…  
  
She… looked like her. Only more irritating. Less beautiful.  
  
_‘You know nothin’ Jon Snow._ ’ She would say to me.  
  
Often. More often than I’d like.  
  
Two years… two years I’d spent with them. Constantly reminded that I knew nothing.  
  
And she was useful. She taught me things. She was similar to Arya in her loyalty. Similar to Arya in many things.  
  
Helped me retain my anonymity amongst them.  
  
They’d never trust me if they knew I’d really remained a crow.  
  
I owed her my loyalty.  
  
And again, she reminded me of the one thing..  
  
The only thing I wanted.  
  
She was amusing, knew how to hunt, knew how to ride. Knew how to stick up for herself.  
  
I was intrigued…  
*****************************************************************************  
I did something I shouldn’t’ve.  
  
I was in a cave… I was stressed. She’d stolen the sword I was gifted by my former commander.  
  
Said to me she wanted me to prove something…  
  
What could I do?  
  
I broke my vow of celibacy then.  
  
I did what I had to.  
  
But all I saw… All I saw as I dipped my head beneath her, as I tasted her skin. As she rode my lap…  
  
Was Sansa…  
  
My love…  
  
_My love._  
***********************************************************************************************  
The cave was a safe haven, however we could not stay there forever.  
  
Beyond the wall was a perilous place.  
  
Honor compelled me to guide these people… these barbarians as they were know to the rest of the world were human, just like I and every crow at Castle Black.  
  
And I was lord commander.  
  
So it was only right, after what we’d seen. What we endured. To guide them safely back behind the Wall.  
  
It was a mistake I don’t regret making.  
  
But a mistake nonetheless. To my peers anyway.  
  
Once they arrived at Castle black, I as well as they were met with enmity.  
  
But it was right.  
  
And honor.  
  
Honor was what I sought.  
  
But I missed my family…  
  
After all I’d seen. After everything…  
  
My brothers…  
  
They could smell the sentiments on me.  
  
So they lured me, one night.  
  
A young boy named Olly sought me out, told me my Uncle, Benjen who had not been seen for months had come to the Castle.  
  
He was family…  
  
And perhaps he had word. Of Sansa. Of how she fared.  
  
She never answered my letters. I’d only heard back that they were well and she was set to be betrothed.  
  
Betrothed… Of course. I could never have her…  
  
Betrothed… I’d never known hatred as potently as I did once I heard that news.  
  
To whom, I knew not.  
  
But Benjen was here.  
  
Perhaps the engagements were postponed. So I was full of hope, when I rushed out there.  
  
Like a fool, I'd rushed too quickly.  
  
All my foolish hope. It died there.  
  
I walked through a crowd hoping to see my father’s brother…  
  
Instead I saw a sign..  
  
A sign of what they really felt for me.  
  
‘TRAITOR’, It read.  
  
I was confused..  
  
What I felt next relieved me of any puzzlement.  
  
A knife in my gut.  
  
In my rib.  
  
And another..  
  
And another.

And another…  
  
One in my lung.  
  
Another in my kidney

And the last…  
  
In my heart.  
  
_“For the watch.”_ I heard them say, each time they stuck me.  
  
And then black.  
  
All I saw was black.  
  
But after… I saw red.  
  
Heard, that voice…  
  
Her voice…  
  
It was weeping…  
  
On the banks of the lake. I knew this lake… The lake beside my home... It was her... she was weeping on the banks but she was being caressed. By something… By someone.  
  
She was praying.  
  
Praying to a skeletal figure that loomed above her.  
  
I tried to reach her… I said her name aloud…  
  
She didn’t hear me.  
  
But he did…  
  
_It_ , did.  
  
It raised its digits to my neck and pulled me up from the dark lake I swam in.

I didn’t even realize I was submerged.  
  
And then, my eyes opened. I gasped.  
  
And my eyes… they opened.  
  
I was alive.  
************************************************************************  
I was alive.  
  
A man named Davos Seaworth who served a man named Stannis told me what had transpired.  
  
But all I could remember was that weeping and that figure that lifted me from the water.  
  
And the knives that pierced me. Took my life. Took the only opportunity I had to see her again…  
  
They had taken my life. They had taken my pride.  
  
I was different once I rose.  
  
Hatred swarmed my gut knowing they'd humiliated me for doing the right thing. What the pride of a commander demanded.  
  
I wanted revenge.  
  
So I sought it out.  
  
Hung the mutineers that betrayed me. Betrayed us. Betrayed the hope I had of reaching her again.  
  
Once the shit ran down their legs and their tongues rolled out of their mouths, the deed was done.  
  
I, was done.  
  
As lord commander anyway.  
  
The Wildlings were still there.  
  
She was still there.  
  
She had fought for me. They had her in the cells. I freed her.  
  
I was grateful for her assistance. I felt responsible for her. And she would never be welcome at Castle Black.  
  
I realized we had no place there.  
  
And once I’d awoken I still… heard no word from her.

But that voice. Weeping. Weeping…  
  
My watch had ended.  
  
I had accomplished what I set out to do. Given myself a name. I'd taken pride in my achievement. My father would be proud. And perhaps she... perhaps she would be proud of me, too.  
  
I resolved the safest place for us both, was back home.  
  
Home, to Winterfell.  
**************************************************************************************************************************  
I had this man, Davos who introduced me to a red woman, the red woman who ‘resurrected’ me send word for me.  
  
I told my wildling companion of my home, so she knew to be ready. What was coming.  
  
If only…  
  
If only I’d known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> So, Jon breaks Sansa's heart, and his own in the process. Meets things and people who change his life forever. Take his life. Take his virginity, and now he's headed home. With the one person who he should have left where he found her.  
> Things won't end well. For anyone involved. We'll see where his pride leads him next.
> 
> Stay tuned and let me know your thoughts! We'll see how he really feels about what unfolds next and what he'll do about it. ;)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy[ed]!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I never had secrets
> 
> Until her.
> 
> Sansa. My sister.
> 
> My love."
> 
> Sequel to Invidia [Envy] told from Jon's point of view. His version of the events they both can't help but recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon arrives back at Winterfell
> 
> With his guest.
> 
> And everyone is happy. Save for one.

The day had come.  
  
Ygritte and I rode south.  
  
None of my clothes had fit me. I’d grown larger, after my escapades beyond the wall.  
  
The hairs on my face, fuller.  
  
My hair, longer.  
  
I pulled It back into a knot, not unlike how my father wore his.  
  
Summoned the horses and the rest of the men and began our journey.  
  
I was nervous… the whole time.  
  
I could not get the visions out of my mind.  
  
The weeping…  
  
The chanting…  
  
That skeleton. As frigid as his face was, his hands were not.  
  
His hands…  
  
They’d felt like hers.  
  
Ygritte’s voice brought me back to my senses.  
  
_“Are ya payin’ attention? Ugh, you know nothin’, Jon Snow.”  
_  
I looked at her and smirked. She’d aided me. She was the reason I’d returned.  
  
I felt grateful.  
  
I owed her.  
  
But her hair… those locks.. how they reminded me of her…  
  
But no…  
  
I’d read of her betrothal.

I cleared my head of any notion I had of pursing her then.  
  
Ygritte, would be my alibi. As she was beyond the wall.  
  
And I was fond of her, as she was of me.  
  
And I had to repay her. Protect her.  
  
So I resolved to do so.  Resolved that I’d honor my station. Honor my promise. Honor her sacrifice. Pride myself to keep to the statements I’d made the night I left two years ago.  
  
That she deserved better than I.  
  
That I would not sin against her anymore.  
  
That I could not sin with her anymore.  
  
I would not betray them both.  
  
And… she hated me.  
  
I’d heard her say it.  
  
But part of me… part of me doubted it.  
  
You see… that weeping. That chanting. That cloak of fire-red hair…  
  
That breath of life.  
  
It felt... So much like her.  
*************************************************************************************  
My Destrier clipped towards the gates of Winterfell heavily. Ghost trotted beside me.  
  
My heart.. was beating at the speed of an Iron born fleet.  
  
Anticipation.  
  
Ygritte clipped beside me as my men clipped behind me and raised the signal for the gatekeep to open the gates.  
  
The great wood and steel doors creaked open and I saw…  
  
I saw my family.  
  
All of them.  
  
My father who’d greyed a bit, Lady Catelyn whose countenance look less… reproachful than I was used to. Robb, who’d grown bigger and fuller in the beard. Bran, who looked as if he was still climbing anything with a foot hold. Arya, who looked elated and covered in dirt, Needle hanging at her hip. Just like I’d left her. Rickon, a foot taller. Their direwolves at their sides.  
  
I’d dismounted my Destrier. Helped Ygritte down from her stallion.  
  
I turned to see my father walking towards me, slowly.  
  
We crashed into each other. I felt a strength I didn’t know he had practically lift me from the ground. My father... was never one for idle demonstrations of emotion. But when I pulled away from him, I saw a streak of wet fall from his grey eyes. My grey eyes.  
  
Once he let go of me, next was my… stepmother.  
  
I didn’t know how to approach her. But again, she looked less odious towards me than I was used to. I’d died once… I figured reaching for her could not be any worse.  
  
She hugged me… it registered strange. I cannot recall any other time she touched me.  
  
I was saved by the lack of decorum my siblings had. They rushed me. Tackled me with their embraces. I took it all in.  
  
Once I’d untangled myself from them, I turned towards Ygritte. Her heavy furs cloaking her face. I pulled them back from her hair. Took her in hand and guided her towards my father,  
  
He looked perplexed, so I began to explain to him what took place beyond the wall… what she did for me. Who… she was. I braced myself for a sign of his disapproval.  
  
To my surprise, I got none.  
  
Quite the contrary.  
  
His perplexity morphed into what could only be assumed as gratefulness. Mirth. He smiled and reached a hand out to Ygritte, embraced her as well. Held a hand out to the castle and welcomed her to our home.  
  
She smiled back. Clearly pleased.  
  
With my hand in hers, I kissed her on her head, let my family make themselves known to her.  
  
Felt for Ghost beside me and realized he was not there.  
Neither was someone else…  
  
I looked up and around  
  
I found Ghost. He was stood next to his sister, Lady. Stood next to his sister,  
  
And mine.  
  
She was there. Standing in front of me…  
  
_Godsss_ … she’d grown beautiful.  
  
She was taller. More lithe. Full at the chest. Full in the hips. Her flaming red hair was hanging in loose curls around her face. Her eyes… they locked onto mine.  
  
And I couldn’t feel. Not the breath in my chest or the cool of the wind that kissed my face. Nor the feel of Ygritte’s hand in mine.  
  
I felt nothing, but the desire to merge with her.  
  
Like the magic from the east I knew only too well...  
  
She was haunting me… again.

********************************************************************************  
We sat to sup.  
  
I began to explain to the rest of my family her origins.  
  
Ygritte had never eaten at a high-born meal before.  
  
She was confused on how to use the tools in front of her.  
  
She was holding her fork to sip her soup and attempting to cut her meat with her spoon.  
  
I was amused. So was the rest of my family… benignly.  
  
All… all except one.  
  
I hard a sardonic chuckle.  
  
I knew that laugh…  
  
I looked up to see my sister’s face… the arch of her brow high.. there was a coldness.. in her eyes. One I’d never recognized before.  
  
She was laughing at Ygritte.  
  
She knew better. She, was high-born. She was trained to hold back her true sentiments in the company of guests. She knew the proper decorum. If she hadn’t learned it from mother or father, certainly she learned under the tutelage of the septas.  
  
I _know_... when she’d done things like this in the past, that I had checked her for it.  
  
I raised my gaze to her. Caught her eye. She caught mine. Our eyes locked. And I looked at her…  
  
Checked her again.  
  
Despite her beauty… something had changed.  
  
And what reflected back at me was a look I did not think I’d ever see grace her features.  
  
Anger… perhaps. Haughtiness… surely…  
  
No.  
  
Hatred.  
  
The only appropriate word for what stared back at me.  
  
Hatred and defiance. She was vexed. I saw it peak as she stared at me… even more as Ygritte reminded me of how much I did not know…  
  
She was challenging me. Questioning me.  
  
_Accusing_ me.  
  
Calling me a fool to my face, without the words.  
  
No. She was not allowed. I had explained. I explained that evening... The night I lost my life well before I was stabbed. I had no other choice. She would never understand the burden I had to bear, loving her so closely yet the possibility of a life together so far from my reach.  
  
Her defiance infuriated me.  
  
But I’d _make_ her understand.

She had to understand…  
  
She broke her gaze of hatred from me, swept her gowns up and excused herself from the tables.  
  
I must’ve been the only one to notice. Supper was over but the rest of my family continued to entertain Ygritte’s conversation. She’d grown quite comfortable.  
  
And I found small comfort in the fact that I could perhaps slip out unnoticed.  
  
I followed her.  
*********************************************************************************  
She was walking swiftly. I assume she’d run if she had the mind for it. She was preoccupied. She was trying to escape.  
  
But I was quicker.  
  
I saw an empty corridor. A dimly lit quarter.  
  
She must not have heard my footsteps behind her.  
  
I reached out and gripped her arm. Pulled her into the quarter and latched the door.  
  
I could hear her breathing… it was faint. As though she was holding her breath.  
  
I saw her eyes… those blue eyes, staring back at me through the flicker of the candlelight.  
  
Her eyes…. They were not.. the same.  
  
I moved towards her.. I couldn’t keep my hands from seeking her face.

My fingers met the warmth of her cheek. I let my eyes pierce her. I searched her.  
  
Gods… she was beautiful… her features more matured. The bridge of her nose straighter than when I’d left her. Her jaw… more carved than I remembered. Her lips.. fuller.  
  
Mine were drawn towards them… they wanted to fuse.. But her face fascinated me enough to keep me at bay. And those eyes... Those eyes…  
  
I recognized what I mistook for hatred for me.. they were brimming with tears now.  
  
And again… I felt the wound above my heart threaten to tear.  
  
Something akin to need kicked in… I whispered her name.  
  
_“Sansa…”_ I crooned to her.  
  
Immediately, her eyes snapped shut. Damming back the tears that threatened to spill.  
  
My hands clutched her face a little tighter… She was retreating into herself... I said her name again. More forcefully this time. Pressed my body to hers to try to draw her out.  
  
She was hiding from me…  
  
_“Sansa…”_ I breathe again, searching her... desperately. She was not the same.  
  
_She was not the same._  
  
And she would not answer me.  
  
_"Will you not speak to me?" I_ breathed.  
  
She couldn’t.  
  
No, she wouldn’t.  
  
My efforts grew. I ran my fingers through her hair. Inspected her. As I used to when she would fall from her horse…  
  
Or see white too intensely. I heard a sharp intake expand in her lungs. Her breasts pressing against me as it did.  
  
I smiled and I pressed my head against hers.  
  
She smelled the same. Lavender and lemon permeated my senses.  
  
Again, I attempted to coax her to speak.  
  
_“Speak to me.”_ I rasped.  
  
_“Look at me.”_  
  
She grimaced and for a second, I thought I’d hurt her…  
  
I did… I only realized then as the wet she was fighting so hard to dam back fell from her eye.  
  
And the pain… the pain that seeped from her delicate skin infected me like greyscale.  
  
I could not breath.  
  
And I finally understood that look she fixed me with at supper.  
  
That hatred…  
  
It was pain.  
  
I did this.  
  
So I attempted to explain. My circumstances. Ygritte.  
_  
“I had no choice… we were ambushed. I sent you… letters. Why did you not answer me? Please… understand Sansa… I love you… I **love** you..”  
  
_She stiffened. _  
  
_I tried harder.  
  
“ _What would you have had me do? Stay here. Stay and cause us both misery? Remind you every day that we could never be? Defile you? What if we were discovered? How impossible we are! Please try to understand...”  
_  
I pleaded with her. I’d never craved her voice more than I did in that moment. Not even when I dreamt  
  
Of those nights  
  
And a figure that looked so much like her on the banks of that lake in my dreams.  
  
Weeping. _  
_  
Weeping.  
  
_“Speak to me…”_ I rasped. Clutching her face now. I could feel myself being possessed with every word I said to her.  
  
_“Look at me.”_  
  
open your eyes.  
  
_“Speak, my love!”  
  
_She couldn’t. She was not ready.  
  
And then she pushed me.  
  
Pushed me from her.  
  
I could tell it took a massive effort.  
  
I was larger than her. Larger, than I was before.  
  
She barely moved me.  
  
And then she spoke.  
  
_“Leave me alone.”_ she said.  
  
I’d need that red woman, to resurrect me again after that.  
  
I could barely move.  
  
I chanced a look at her. Her eyes were still shut.  
  
She would not look at me.  
  
I finally lifted myself from her body.  
  
I’ll admit, it took me ages.  
  
But I let her go.  
  
She reached blindly for the door, and let herself out of the quarter.  
  
I called for her… but she didn’t answer.  
  
I heard her boots  scream against the stone as she ran…  
  
And I didn’t sleep that night.  
**********************************************************************************************************  
I stared at her. Often. How could I not? Her beauty had grown. Her face… her face was all I dreamt of. All I saw when I closed my eyes. When I arrived at the Wall. When I hunted.  
  
And now..  
  
Now..  
  
It was in front of me, after what felt like ages.  
  
In front of me.  
  
And despondent.  
  
She wasn’t the same.  
  
And she would not look at me.  
  
I saw her cringe. Slightly. When Ygritte would speak. When she’d remind me of what I didn’t know. It was well hidden.  
  
Not from me though.  
  
She’d focus on everything else. Her food. The food she wasn’t eating. Intently. Father… Not taking in a word he said. Her mother, while she fussed at her to eat her greens. The Peas old nan made. Rickon. Bran. Everything. Everyone.  
  
Except me.  
  
So I’d relent.  
  
Fix my gaze on Ygritte.  
  
All the while, feeling as though my eyes should be on her.  
  
My sister.  
  
My _love._  
  
But Ygritte… Ygritte was here. She’d helped me. And she was happy.  
  
Perhaps the only happy girl in the castle.

She was happiest.  
  
When we’d ride. Hunt. She was good. My siblings told me so. She’d joined us in everything. Fishing. Sparring.  
  
My family had taken to her.  
  
Everyone in my family.  
  
Save for her. Sansa. Who stayed in the towers needling and sewing…  
  
She never liked it.  
  
I knew... she was miserable up there.  
  
What I wouldn’t give for the days that I taught her to ride.  
  
She should have been with me.  
  
She should have been with us. Riding. Hunting. Fishing. Smiling.  
  
Her smile.  
  
I missed it.  
  
I _yearned_ for it.  
  
It had died… just as I had. The night I left.  
  
Just as I had, the night I’d been stabbed.  
  
It would have been simple… to invite her with us, to hunt and ride and sparr.  
  
I suspect she would have been a great proficient.  
  
But I’d never gotten the chance…  
  
To teach her.  
  
And I could feel her…  
  
Even when she would not look at me.  
  
But the energy I felt from her… this envy.. this hatred.  
  
It was my fault.. My fault..  
  
Damn.  
***************************************************************************  
We were in the halls… late. Theon, Robb the rest of our banner men. Ygritte… Ygritte too.  
  
We’d just brought back our spoils from the hunt. Two great stags and a bit of rabbit.  
  
They were all in good spirits.  
  
So was I… after a good bit of hot wine.  
  
I found myself drowned in it. Every pewter cup I threw back lifted my spirits. However artificial.  
  
It was all I could do, to block that gaze. That beautiful gaze of hatred that stared back at me the night I’d asked her to understand in those dimly lit quarters.  
  
Why… _why would she not look at me?!  
_  
I chugged back another cup. Laughed at the vulgar jokes made.  
  
Could barely feel my feet when we decided to retire.  
  
The drink. Northern ale was powerful stuff.  
  
Ygritte. Wilding that she was put her arm under mine and guided me to my chambers.  
  
Our… chambers.  
  
And there it is… I can see it in your face again.  
  
Your judgment.  
  
I was full with vine. With Wheat.  
  
I was not myself.  
  
How would you feel? What would you do if the only thing you thought was _right_ broke the hearts of both you and the one you loved?  
  
I pondered that as she helped me from my clothes.  
  
But something was happening…  
  
Her red hair… it grew longer as I stared at it.  
  
Her eyes.. the morphed from slightly too far apart to perfectly positioned. Symmetrical.  
  
Her nose morphed from pug to aquiline. Her lips… the grew fuller…  
  
What.. what was happening?  
  
_‘Jon snow…’_ she crooned.  
  
Only it wasn’t her thick northern brogue.  
  
It was soft. Delicate.  
  
She climbed atop me. Spread her legs.  
  
And warmth…  
  
Her warmth enveloped me.  
  
She rode me… but it wasn’t her…  
  
Sansa  
  
Sansa stared back at me.  
  
Yes… this was all… all I wanted.  
  
I attacked her back with the hunger of a starved man. The hunger I remembered like the night after the hunt with house Cerwyn.  
  
When I’d lifted her above me in the candlelight.  
  
I was ravenous… I closed my eyes as the vine swashed through my belly.  
  
Listened to those sweet croons as they grew louder.  
  
As I thrusted harder and harder and harder.  
  
‘ _JonSnowJonSnowJonSnowJonSnow…’  
  
_It was all I heard.  
  
As I stared at those blue eyes. Those lips.  
  
She was perfect.  
  
The bed post thumped against the wall with all the force I throttled through her and I thought…  
  
I thought I heard crashing, screaming from somewhere…  
  
Somewhere…  
  
No... nothing would take me from this... my attention from this.  
  
Finally.  
  
She was mine.  
  
I shook the disturbance from my head.  
  
Turned my attention back to Sansa…  
  
_“Sansa…"_ I uttered.  
  
Her moans.. the ceased for a moment.  
  
She looked at me… confused…  
  
And those eyes…  
  
The were spreading far apart again. Aquiline nose morphing to a short pug stub. Scars reformed… Tooth morphed from straight to crooked again.  
  
The hair… it grew shorter before my eyes.  
  
And I understood what was happening.  
  
But I was so close.  
  
I closed my eyes again and did what I could only do.  
  
I brinked.  
  
And I fell.  
  
Into a heap atop her.  
  
I remembered nothing else.  
******************************************************************************************************  
The dawn came and crept into my room like a shadow.  
  
I felt as though I’d just been hit by a Wilding’s Mammoth.  
  
Cringed as I attempted to sit up.  
  
My world swirling like a whirlpool in the lake by the Godswood.  
  
A small but calloused hand touched mine.  
_  
"Jon Snowwww"  
  
_And it all came rushing back..  
  
The vine.  
  
The Wheat.  
  
I should not have mixed.  
  
The croons, the groans…  
  
The thumping of the headboard.  
  
That face… her face… her lips parted, her thick red hair in my grip.  
  
Gods… her hair.  
  
That face…  
  
The face, that was not staring back at me as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.  
  
Ygritte… Ygritte laid before me.  
  
And she was curious… no…  
  
I saw accusation in that face.  
  
_‘Jon snow… did you enjoy the night?’_  
  
……………………  
  
_‘Yes… yes of course.’ I responded.._ Trepidation in my gut. But my words strong. Direct.  
  
Her lips were set in a hard line.  
  
_“Of course.”_ She mimicked…  
  
Silence sat between in for a moment.  
  
_“Do you… see other people while you’re getting fucked… Jon Snow?”  
  
_Shit.  
  
Why was she asking?  
  
She knew…  
  
She knew.  
  
And I cursed myself. And the wine. The ale. That I hadn’t my wits about me.  
  
So I did the one thing I never thought I could do to her.  
  
I lied.  
  
_“You must have fucked the sense from me… I knew nothing last night, you always remind me, remember?”  
_

It sufficed. I'd convince her. Like I'd convinced Mance that I forsook my vows. I saw her crooked lips stretch from a frown to a smile.  
  
Whatever it took… Ygritte was wild. Ruthless.  
  
Possessive.  
  
I’d protect Sansa…  
  
Keep the knowledge of them both from each other.  
  
_‘We need fuel.”_ I said as I pressed my lips to hers briefly.  
  
_“Get dressed.”_ I commanded giving her bottom a slap. And she obliged. Reverted to her normal disposition. Made her jokes and jabs.  
  
We were laughing together as I wrenched the door open for us to break our fast.  
  
I Should have waited. Kept the doors closed.  
  
Sansa’s face stared back at me as I passed the threshold.  
  
I… I did not know she resided the door over.  
  
She was staring.  
  
And I… I was throttled back to the evening…  
  
Those lips... those croons… that…  
  
Screaming?  
  
That screaming…  
  
That screaming.  
  
And then… then I understood what I’d heard. What I’d heard was not a dream. Not some specter.  
  
It was her.  
  
Her screams.  
  
She’d heard everything.  
  
I peeked ‘round her and swore I saw shards of glass strewn about her floors.  
  
And I felt my face morph from surprise, to discomfort, to guilt.  
  
Gods… my guilt.  
  
And her face…  
  
I’d never feared anything until I saw her face that morning.  
  
My sister, was dead.  
  
And I… I killed her.  
  
Something that wasn’t her stared back at me.  
  
Her eyes... The rim of them tinged with red.  
  
She’d been weeping.  
  
Those blue eyes I’d fought every Wilding, every White Walker, every knife that entered me to get back to. They were dead.  
  
And what stared back at me was a hatred and a hunger that burned brighter than Wildfire.  
  
A vengeance. A possession. I saw those eyes, slip from me... to Ygritte briefly.  
  
And fear.  
  
A sentiment that I’d never felt easily in my past  consumed me.  
  
And I’d realized in that moment I’d been mistaken this whole time.  
  
Her hatred was not only directed towards me…  
  
But to Ygritte as well...  
  
What I saw was a plot. What I saw…  
  
Was resolution.  
  
It was brief. But I saw it.  
  
I made to speak, but never got the chance.  
  
As she brushed past us.  
  
Silent.  
  
And in that moment an unwelcome thought swam through my mind... however briefly... the thought that perhaps the person who needed protection, wasn't Sansa after all.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All!
> 
> Soooo, Jon perhaps knows some things. Knows that Maybe bringing Ygritte might not have been the best move. If not he's figuring them out with every look he sees on Sansa's face. Little by little he's seeing his little sister break. And no matter how deep his cravings are for her. That damn pride won't let him do what's right, just what's honorable.
> 
> Should've know better. It'll be be the death of more than one person here ;).
> 
> Stay tuned! More to come, plus a little aftermath ;)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy[ed]!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I never had secrets
> 
> Until her.
> 
> Sansa. My sister.
> 
> My love."
> 
> Sequel to Invidia [Envy] told from Jon's point of view. His version of the events they both can't help but recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare and things come to a deadly head after Sansa witnesses something she shouldn't have.
> 
> Much to Ygritte's misfortune
> 
> And Jon's rage.

Breakfast was an uncomfortable affair.

For the first time, it was I that could not eat.

I kept staring. Willing her, to look at me.

To be sure what I had seen on her face only moments before, was not accurate.

Was not real.

This could not be real.

But she was avoiding my eyes. This dance… we’d been doing since I arrived.

Ygritte was consorting with my family. I chanced a look at her and her gaze switched to Sansa briefly.

She was curious.

More curious about her than I was comfortable with.

I glanced back at Sansa and saw that cringe again. The cringe that screamed how uncomfortable she was. The cringe that screamed how much she wished for silence.

Ygritte’s silence.

I always knew when her mind was racing.

And then her gaze stilled. Focused on Ygritte. Little by little her face, contorted with every breath she took. Irritation morphed to disdain, disdain… grief and grief, to envy.

Envy that lasted for what seemed like ages but in truth was only for a second.

The longest second of my life.

*************************************************************

The day grew bleaker.

After we broke our fast, father and I had gone down to the smith’s shop to commission a new sword.

My brothers and Arya were in the courtyards sparring, as usual, Ygritte with them.

I looked on, paid mind to Rickon to make sure he didn’t become too ambitious, laughed as I saw them all getting on.

My laughter stopped as a flash of red hair and fur cloak caught my eye.

I saw Sansa.

She must’ve escaped the septas again. This time of day her moments were spent in the towers.

She was prowling silently, unseen it seemed to anyone but myself. The volume was turned up again to the conversation the rest of them were having. They were asking Ygritte about her home, the pastimes, what it was like north of the wall.

She replied and assured them our customs weren’t all that different.

Save for one thing.

 _‘That thing you southron lords do to your ladies' cunnies at night. That thing you do...with your mouths.'_   I heard her say.

Instantly, I wished she hadn’t.

Instantly, the world stood at a halt on its axis.

I couldn't hear their laughter, though I saw them, doing it. Even while Bran and Robb doubled over and Arya blushed… my eyes snapped over to Sansa. My heart threatening to rise up my throat with every beat it made.

Her face.

It terrified me.

Shit. Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit. _Shit!_

I saw her chest rise and fall rapidly, her visage from cold, to shocked, to grief-stricken then finally acidic and murderous. Her lips began to tremble. How could no one else see her? I had half a mind to pull her from the courtyard and walk her into the castle myself.

I knew what she must be thinking.

Ygritte knew no other ‘southron lord’ but myself.

That thing we did with our mouths… well, the first person I’d ever blessed with that kind of kiss was my sister.

And the murderous glare she fixed Ygritte with told me she was not pleased I had shared it with another.

I saw her bite her fist, most likely to keep from screaming. My siblings were still laughing, my father, still speaking with the Smith getting the details of the sword just right, throwing a question to me here and there

But I couldn’t hear… I could not focus on anything but the panic snaking up my spine and the savage yet contained stare Sansa continued to fix the Wildling with… the satisfied and elated look Ygritte had on her face, enjoying her own humor.

 

My eyes snapped back to my sister and she looked as if she was in some sort of a trance. A trance that mirrored a resolve. She looked less distressed and more resolute.

I had never seen this look on her face before.

Something else had taken over my sister.

Something unnatural.

I wanted her back.

I wanted Sansa back.

That was all I could think while father and the Smith tried to grab my attention back and the din of my sibling’s and Ygritte’s laughter rang out.

And that unwelcome feeling that perhaps Sansa wasn’t the one who need to be shielded trespassed my being again.

***************************************************************************

I spent the rest of the day petrified though my countenance suggested otherwise.

I never truly surrendered my real feelings.

But I ready for a war to break out.

It didn’t though.

One day turned into another. A week turned into a fortnight…

And nothing.

I observed her. As I always did.

And something was different.

Very different. She was calm. Peaceful.

She did not speak much. Not to me. Not to me at all really…. It ailed me… her silence.

What I wouldn’t give for her to speak to me. To tell me what happened.

 I tried to communicate it to her… through the looks, I know she avoided. The looks she sometimes caught.

Those Tully blue eyes were looking somewhere else though.

Watching someone else.

I knew my sister.

As I watched her, I saw her watching Ygritte…

Where she'd run with me, where she hunted, saw her pass the quarters we slept in the afternoons when the Castle was barren… I had our chambers moved the next morning.

I did not want her to witness what she witnessed before breakfast a month ago.

She was mildly pleasant… at suppers. She passed me pie without me having to request it.  
  
Of course, she did not look at me.

Peaceful… a peaceful Sansa…

I didn’t trust it.

I had little time to ponder my detective work.

Another supper came and we had guests. Guests from the Eyrie where my father was ward in his younger years. House Waynwood and Arryn had come to dine with us and of course, no expense was spared.

Among the large household was one Harrold Hardyng.

 _"Old Gods, I didn't think they'd make them prettier than you down ‘ere Jon Snow."_ Said Ygritte to my left observing him. She was dressed more groomed than I was used to seeing her. She looked pretty. Her hair pulled back, rouge on her cheeks.  I smiled at her jest, kissed her forehead.  I never minded her chiding. Never minded her observations at this man’s appearance. Many a perfumed lord had graced our halls and left, none of them any consequence.

That is until Sansa walked into the room and this Harrold approached her.  
  
He took her hand in his and brushed his dimpled face against it.

That same rage that ran through me the day the Bolton bastard had come to visit, the day I ran my fist against his pock-mocked jaw, that very same rage overcame me at that moment. I never wanted to rip a man apart the way I did the moment I saw him touch her.

I hated him more than those sick bastards that flayed men alive.

 At that moment I would've happily rode down to the Dreadfort to take a lesson or two on their proud artform.

I wanted him away from Sansa.

I saw her mother look on fondly, the septas nod encouragingly, the other girls look on with a mixture of admiration and envy.

Even my father remarked how he favored Jon Arryn in his youth.

This sandy-haired youth they called the young falcon. He was too comfortable.

 

His deep blue eyes caught mine for a briefly and instantly his pompous smile faltered.

I felt Ghost rumble beside me aiding me in the endeavor. Saw his lips pull back over his fangs.

I shifted in my seat a raised my torso to full height, not breaking contact with him.

Once his smile faltered, so did his grip on Sansa’s hand.

I did not break my gaze from him until he disconnected from Sansa completely and sit at opposite ends of the tables. Much to her confusion and the rest of the party.

Satisfied, I turned my attentions back to Ygritte who was doing her best to dine as lady-like as her manners would permit.

***************************************************************************

It did not end with this ‘Harry’ though.

A multitude of families would come to visit.

Hornwood, Maizin, Redwyne from the Reach, Fowler as far as Dorne, Velaryon, whom I reckoned were extinct. Father and Lady Catelyn seemed eager to make a good match for her. All of them with their gifts and their scraping, their able-bodied boys openly yearning for my sister. Declaring their love for her. Their devotion. All of them rich and comfortable.

And all of them weak.

None of them were good enough for her.

None of them. Not in the current state she was in. She was putting on an act. I knew it. I could always read her well. She was not the same and none of these perfumed fools had the fortitude to manage what was going on with her underneath her polite disposition.

Underneath her false charms.

The storm that was brewing.

She did not love them.

She loved me.

As difficult as it was for me to have another on my arm as I intimidated every single one of them into silence, I knew it.

Though it ailed me, her silence

I had to manage that while maintaining enough discretion not to set off Ygritte's suspicions, and the bloodthirst that would brew each time I saw Sansa exchange a look with someone who could offer her the world.

But she did not love them.

She loved me.

***********************************************************************

Another fortnight and among our visitors were House Baratheon, save this time father and Lady Catelyn has spared no expense in feast preparations. All the best candles lit, tapestries, Wine imported from Dorne.

All to impress my father’s oldest and closest friend, King Robert and his Wife, Queen Cersei.

All to impress Sansa’s would-be parents by law.

Aye… those whispers I told you about.

They’d turned to confirmations. Boasts of her betrothal, not to some perfumed lord. But some perfumed prince.

Prince Joffrey.

I watched it all happen in front of me. Like some nightmare worthy of Craster's Keep.

How this piss-haired prince and his vile tendencies, in his falsely sweet tones fawned over her.

His voice. I hated it. A feminine drawl that entered your ears like an Adder.

It was to be expected, I guess. I’d never heard particularly good remarks about the Lannisters.

Still, my family, they were serious about this union. My father's discomfort showed but far be it from him to check his oldest friend, the king or lady Catelyn and her ambitions for Sansa.

I needed an escape.

So I ventured to my only true sanctuary. The banks of the lake and the area that surrounded it.  I’d work my frustrations out on the water.

While I thought and pondered the horrible reality of what my life, after death had become.

What I wanted.

I thought too hard… as I pulled the boat back onto the bank.

The power of the mind, eh?  
  
What serendipity that the only thing that could calm me was stood at the far side of the water.

Staring at me.

No cloak could hide her from me.

I could smell her lavender reaching for me, like her fingers used to.

She could see me, staring back at her. A sense of urgency encompassed me.

She could do that to me. Easily.

And I was weary, of her and her attempts to run…

She made it a few feet, before my calloused hands wrapped around her arm tightly.

Her waist nestled in my hands.

I could feel her struggle, attempting to escape. Her fear, now that I’d caught her.

 _“Come here to me,"_ I whispered.

That fight, it became stronger. Her eyes widened when she realized I would not release my hold.

So she did what she was good at. Shut her eyes from me. Shake her head between my grip on her face. My thumb caressing her cheekbone that looked like milk in the moonlight.

I coaxed her. Inhaled her. Pressed her body nearer to me. Watched her pink lips tremble. Remembered how they would part… when I would make her scream…

I felt myself grow.

I was beginning to feel faint with the need for her. I could feel my breath grow ragged as I pressed my forehead against hers, let her nose touch mine. Her breathing becoming more and more clipped the closer I got. The warmth of her breast as I pressed her harder against me…

_Godssssss_

_“Where are you?”_ I rasped. My hands caging her face in.

She would not look at me. But her lips…

Her lips were close to mine…

So close to mine.

I was never one to relent at the point of attack.

So our tongues… they fought. My tongue dipped into her mouth, the sweetness of lemon cake still on her lips. I bit them. Felt the groan stop in her throat as I kissed her there, pulled her hair back for better access. Formed a bite on her neck, worked my way back to her lips. Let her do what she pleased with them. She did not realize she was kissing me back, she did not realize her temperature peaking…

I could always tell when she was about to see white.

She must’ve felt it too, I felt the warmth of salt mix with lemon. I pulled her to me. The urge I had to merge with her was rising like a howl.

Until she wrenched her face from my grasp.

 

I felt my senses snap.

My heart break.

My frustrations rise.

Felt her slipping from me like water cupped in hand.

Her eyes were welded shut again.

I had to pull her back.

 _“Seven hells Sansa, speak to me!”_ I begged her.

A pause so pregnant the cold northern air could barely fill it.

 _“I have to go.”_ She whispered so feebly it was gone as soon as it came.

It was short. Curt. My ears, they bled. She could do that to me, easily. In moments like these.  


Cut.  


I stared her lips, watched the bruises from my ardor turn them a tint blue as I let her slide from my grasp.

And I watched her stumble for a second. Steady herself as I watched the specter that was now my sister,

My love…

Disappear in the snow back towards the castle.

******************************************************

An hour I let the cold kiss me back to consciousness. I finally crept back up the castle. Trying to resurrect myself for the second time. Past the gates, Ghost at my heels.

I was tired.

I entered my quarters. Saw Ygritte readying her bow.

I forgot she hunted in the night.

I had a mind, to join her.

Perhaps… Perhaps I should. Work my frustrations out on the game that frolicked at midnight.

The moon was full, after all.

 

But she stopped me. Told me my ‘clumsy southron feet would scare all the prey away.’ Told me us crows were blind at night.

I watched her crooked smile spread at her jest and the uncomfortable sensation that I should press her harder to stay consumed me.

She would not hear it.

I tried once more.  
  
She would not hear.

So I let her go.

Felt fatigue consume me and my world fade too black.  
*******************************************************************************

And I was walking, through the shrubs and oak, past the moss-covered stones in the Wolfswood.

Vine licking at my heels, peeking out from the snow. It was louder than I was used to. I heard direwolves owning the air. Calling to each other. Felt the earth alive.

 The earth was shaking.

 There was something feral in the air.

A metallic scent filled it next… A scent that made me thirst.

I pressed harder, let my walk morph to a brisk run. Shift the branches from my sight as I followed the moonlight. It glowed... glowed with a rim of red that pulsed.

And that metallic scent snatched my senses awake and dripped to my mouth. Filling it with a coppery taste.

I broke to a brisk walk… something about that light had grabbed hold of my neck and was dragging me.

Calling me.

But it was beautiful, despite the dread in my gut. Despite the fact that the light was forming into wisps that snaked into five ribbons, as long as my body itself.

I watched them, curl into lithe, spindly things.

Fingers.

and I was jogging now.

The howling, growing louder. The metallic taste and scent that filled my senses began to mix with the smell of

 

The smell of…

Lavender?

And the dread in my gut rose to fear.

I was running now, my panic rising, the glowing hand coaxing me deeper and deeper and deeper into the forest. The sound of howling raking at my ears. And the sound of screaming. The hand… it was growing into an arm now

A shoulder

a body, corporeal…  
  
I saw a giant hooded figure looming above the forest. The glow was coming from it.

With a skeletal face.

And my eyes, as much as fought, were guided to what this hand was clutching to

A powerful grip...

An impossible grip

A grip that was sucking the life from a figure clad in furs.

Wildling furs.

I felt a pain shoot through my back. I was slammed by this fist against a Weirwood. I force that I was sure had broken my back.

I could not move. I felt I’d vomit from the pain. I wanted to shut my eyes, but the glow of a skeletal finger caressed my face and forced my eyes open

I saw Ygritte’s face look up from her hood, her face decaying before my eyes, her screaming forcing the veins from her throat, her red hair falling from her skull and up the arms of this giant figure that was claiming her life before my eyes.

Her screaming

Her screaming

The wolves.

And a laugh… A laugh that seared into me like a knife.

It was rising…like the hairs from Ygritte’s head, staining the arm red, with blood.

Blood that snaked its way up this arm, into the hood. Cascading into a fire-like mane that cocooned over that skeletal face.

It’s gauntness dissolving in place of high and delicate cheekbones, crystal blue orbs filled empty sockets…

Godsssss… no.

_Gods No._

That laughing. That screaming. I was deaf now. I could not even hear my own shouts as I raked the hand, fight violently, to get to her. Struggle pointlessly.

Its grip was too strong.

And I was becoming drunk off that metallic taste. Drowsy from that smell… of copper, and lavender

That smell I knew all too well.

The smell of death.

Death was smiling at me.

The furs lay lank in its grip

The giant hand around them soaked with blood.

The cerulean orbs that filled previously empty sockets glowed with mirth.

They were alive. More alive than I’d ever seen them before.

Alive with joy, it was relishing what just took place.

And paralyzed with fear, blinded by the beauty of those eyes, haunted with the reality in front of me, I screamed. Watched the bones beneath the furs blow like ash in the wind.

**_‘JON!’_ **

******************************************************

 _“JON!”_  
  
I was being hit ‘round the face.

I jolted awake.

It… it had been a dream.  
  
Thank the gods…

But I was still being shaken. Robb was rousing me awake.

 _“What is it, what’s happened?”_ I mumbled, attempting to gather my senses.

 _“Ygritte... Ygritte..”_ I mumbled next, feeling around me.

I could not feel her.

I heard my door creak open and two more sets of feet followed.

Lady Catelyn and Father…

I searched his face. Suddenly nauseous with panic. Whether I’d hid it well at that moment, I couldn’t be sure.

That dream…

it had felt too real.

He was pulling a pewter of water towards me, got me to drink. The nausea subsided but the feeling of dread did not.

The next moment it was made clear why.

She’d been… attacked. By an animal… Found her… what was left of her, mangled.

In the woods.

They told me she’d fought. Cut whatever attacked her.

My head was swimming.

I wretched violently into a bucket as my father explained.

Catelyn laid her hand on his arm. Told him enough.

They stayed with me well into the afternoon. I barely spoke.

Maester Luwin knocked, announced something to my father.

I could not hear.

Not until father spoke to me directly.

I pulled my shirts over my head and followed him. Down the steps, passed the tapestries and into the small hall.

The commotion I’d walked into rivaled the intensity of an evening brawl.

Arya, was screaming at the top of her lungs, pointed her skinny hand at that piss-haired prince accusingly. He was yelling back. My father attempting to mediate.

King Robert sat in a chair observing it all with an air of grim severity.

And his queen, looked murderous.

The castle grounds had been a breeding ground of violence the night before.

Apparently, Arya and one of the smith’s sons had been sparring. This… Joffrey had followed, wanting to join. Arya’d refused him. Knew he was weak. Spoiled. She saw what we all saw.

But who’d dare to say no to a prince?

So he struck her, and her wolf had done what it was commissioned to. Protect her. Attack the prince.

His story, did not match hers.

His story, held more weight than a girls.

For it was believed, by his mother who seethed with fury.

She demanded recompense. When they could not find Nymeria they decided another wolf would suffice.

That’s when I heard a sharp intake of breath.

And a mane of red hair shoot forward.

I reached my hands out by instinct and caught the writhing ball of human flesh.

It was Sansa, screaming. Writhing. She fought viciously. Seething with more emotion than I’d seen in months. With a desperation I’d only seen the night I told her I was to take the black.

Queen Cersei had decided Lady would be the payment for the debt owed to the Lannisters.

It took the combined strength of myself, Robb and father to hold her back from the beast as they slit its throat.

The cry that pierced the room echoed like a banshee’s wail.

Only to be cut by King Robert, who told my father direwolves were not a proper pet for a princess. To find her another.  
  
The way she wept… I recognized this weeping. From the night of her 16th.  As if she was losing the only thing that mattered to her, again…

I did what I could not all those years ago.  
   
Pressed my lips to her temple as she wept.

**********************************************************************************

A few more nights had passed.

I barely felt them.

I’d been too busy trying to piece the bits of that night together in my mind.

Desperately trying to figure out where I had went wrong.

How I was to blame.

_I should have gone with her that night._

I should have never brought her to Winterfell.

Perhaps if I had left her in the wild of the north beyond the wall.

She’d have been safer.  
  
But I could not go back. I couldn’t change a thing.

I worked my guilt and melancholia out on the wood for the fires. The Does for the feast. Caught the whole of the Venison on my own for the supper that loomed like a shadow.

The shadow of the Lannister’s last night at the Castle.

No one wanted them there.

They’d caused enough strife.  
  
And Sansa… she was morose. As I was. The night of her wolf’s death was the last time I’d made contact with her.

I still endured her silence.

But something was different about her.

She was more attentive. Calmer. Lighter. As if... as if some curse had been lifted from her.

And the shadow of that ghostly white hand flashed before my eyes.  
  
……………………..

No… no…  
  
I brushed it from my mind.

It was simply Ghost’s white fur standing on end as Sansa brushed her fingers against his pelt.

He’d been splitting his time between the both of us.

I let him. She needed some companionship after...

And she’d always liked that pup.

I watched her as supper that night moved with all the swiftness of rancid molasses. Ignored the mirth and din around me. I was drowning in a haze of summerwine. And the cocoon of security my brothers and our bannerman had shielded me with ever since…

I watched her…

Something.... was not right with her…

And instead of the desperation I’d often felt as I stared at her day in, day out.

I felt… a reckoning.

Something was not right.

My suspicions only grew as Robb and the others guided me past where she sat, venturing to collect more ale. A swarm of maids blocked our path, a few of them called my name. Robb parried them back. Kissed one or two. Their humors more elated than mine.

But my eyes. They loomed over Sansa. Sansa and another maid who seemed to be fussing over her.

She wasn’t minding her posture, you see.

Robb stopped, Theon too. Joined in on the fuss.

I watched her face, she looked vexed. I knew that look. She wanted to be let alone.

 _“Lady Sansa, your ankle!”_ The maid hollered.

My eyes followed where she was pointing, worked my way down Sansa’s legs that were positioned crossed, peeking out of her black gown. The wound ‘round her foot exposed. Fresh. Still a tad red around the rim.

Suddenly the adolescent whisper from years prior rushed past my eardrums.

_“What stitch is that?”_

_“a… butterfly stitch.”_

The only stitch she’d ever used to sew up her wounds.

She was speaking to them. Reassuring them lazily that she’d tripped. That it was nothing. Of no consequence.

The last time she’d lied like this it was to cover up our encounter with the Bolton bastard.

Who had attacked her.

The morning this all began.

She only lied like this when she was trying to hide something.

But she couldn’t.

She could never lie well.

Not to me.

And suddenly I knew.

I knew.

I’d pieced it together without knowing I had.

That hand.

Those dead sockets that morphed to blue. That smell of lavender and death. And that laugh…

My eyes shot to hers.

Then to her scar.  
  
Then to her eyes  
  
back to her scar.

No… _no….._

And finally her blue eyes, they stared back at me.

Deliberately.

They were blank. Hollow. They stared back at me while she shifted her gown over her legs.

She wanted me to see. As if it was time. She had done this on purpose.

As she stood, I understood. She’d been waiting for this. I’d never minded her secret strolls. Those stares filled with venom. That silence that seemed so calculated. Not the way I should have.

 This whole time.  


_This whole time…_

My dream that night, was not a dream.

It was a _fucking_ premonition.  
  
A warning.

I felt adrenaline encompass my being like wild fire.

Paralyzed with the reality in front of me.

My sister...

My love.

She was a murderer.

And a fury that rivaled the Baratheon’s overtook me.

I broke away from the group.

Let them partake in the ale they so desperately searched for.

And followed her past the guards.

She would not hide from me.

I knew where she was headed.

Predicted her movements. She departed past the doors, out to the courtyard, climbed the steps to that old hollowed out balcony.

She barely had the time to let her locks down.

Before I burst in. My grey eyes zeroed in on her.

I had a feeling she knew I’d follow.

She’d been coaxing me, as that hand had in my dream. Beckoning me closer.

But the fury that filled me.

The fury that had built from the day I’d left, to the day I had arrived and endured her silence, months of silence. Months of lust, months of bloodthirst against the vermin that courted her. Months of denial that perhaps I’d made more than one mistake. Months of fear for Ygritte’s wellbeing. Months of knowing the Sansa I knew had died. And I…

I had killed her.

Months of knowing I had created a monster.

Little did she know, so did she.

She realized it the moment my hands met her wrists as I slammed her against the wall near the window.

She would speak now.

She could not hide from me now.

And I began to shout.

Pressed against her I pinned her to that wall. Screaming at her. Demanding to know what she did, though I already knew. Months of frustration let out in the span of those minutes. My anger rose as I watched her silence. Her minute reactions. Her lack thereof. She flinched.

And still, she would not speak.

So my efforts grew. I pressed against her with every snarl. Inspected her. She was amused. I watched her eyes roam over my face, hesitate at my lips, rise to my curls and her body deliberately press closer to mine.

She let me rage at her some more, let me snatch her face up in my hands as I demanded more answers.

Answers she would not oblige.

She broke from me. Turned her back to me. And I saw red. Not just the mane of her thick locks but a red as bright as the fire that burned in the corner of my old chamber.

How… how could she do this   
  
If only I’d known…

How could she do this to me?

 _“I’m speaking to you! Don’t turn your back to me!”_ I snarled at her.

_How could she do this to me?_

I asked her. Demanded her to answer me. Demanded her to look at me as I snatched her back. Captured her waist in my grip, snaked my hand around her neck. Pressed my lips to her ear and whispered my demands. Told her I knew... knew about her stitches. Knew she’d done something. To explain to me.   
  
Explain to me!  
  
What happened to her. How she had become this.

But with every yell... I could feel the cold of her skin growing warmer. And warmer.

She began to caress my hand with hers… reached them into my hair. Ran them through my curls.

I growled.

Not with rage... but with frustration. With yeaning.  
  
No. No. No. I wanted answers..  
  
I wanted the justice I sought, the answers I craved.

  
But.  
  
Those wants…they began to dissolve and morph into a fire that was quenched the moment she craned her neck back

And her lips met mine.

And I drank in the taste of summer wine, lemon…

Lavender.

I felt myself swell…

The heat she was eliciting from me spread down my fingers, causing me to rip her dress open. Let it slip down her skin.

And in that moment something took over me. My true self.  I cared about nothing else. What I’d been fighting from the moment I’d let the stranger raise me up from my slumber.

The moment I’d been stabbed.

The moment I’d rode my destrier to the gates that day.

Damn my honor.

Hang my pride.

I lost it all there, the moment I shoved her knees up on the bed. Slip my fingers into her cunt as I’d used to.

She was wet.

 _gods_ …. So wet.

She knew this was coming.

I let her fall into a trance as my tongue sank deeper in her mouth, and I pushed into her from behind. And she enveloped me. Her warmth awakening the demons I’d been trying to drown ever since I fell in love with her

That day.  
  
If only I knew.

I was grinding into her, pumping into her, with a brutal fervor. A fervor she took with relish. Her moans were igniting something in me.

And I loved it…

Godss damn it all, I loved it.

_Fuckkkkkkkkk_

Her cunt clutching to my cock, her hands clutching desperately to the bedsheets. My lips on hers.

My eyes watching every move she made. But her eyes. I wanted them. It was time she finally looked at me. Like I’d begged her to a million times since I’d returned to Winterfell.

 

So I flipped her, pinned her beneath me, pinned her arms above her head and sank into her again. She tugged at my shirts, pulled them off me. I was watching her mouth morph into a smile that mimicked the one gracing that skeleton’s lips. Watched her as she took all of me in. Every thrust my cock ran through her, her hips rising to meet each of them. Her nails digging into my back. My hand latch to her neck as I watched her come alive again.

She could finally look at me. As if all her wishes were coming true in that very moment. A look of gratitude flashed before her eyes before they closed in some sort of twisted prayer of thanks. Thankfulness that she was finally able to give me this.

I could always read her well.

And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relishing the euphoria I felt…

That I was finally able to take this

what was mine.

And the thought of every pathetic lord that had dared to grace our halls and court her. Every lord that brushed their unworthy lips against her hand. Very lord that dared o take her from me. My love… My love. Every thought I had of ending them

made me thrust harder

And harder.

And harder.

And harder.

I watched her moans turn to screams. Heard my pants morph to guttural grunts. Watched her eyes begin to phase out, become unfocused. Begin to roll back into her eyelids

And It hit. Her peak. Her walls clenched around me. I felt her body rise, her legs wrap tighter around my waist, locking me to her.

A scream almost pierced the room, but my lips crashed to hers. To silence her as she lost control. As my peak hit only moments later.

I seized. Began to lock as I spilled inside her.

 _“Sansa…”_ I crooned blindly.

My eyes opened wearily as I saw the ghost of happiness cross her face.

As if it was all worth it.

Hearing me moan her name as I came.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> We all knew this was coming.
> 
> Sansa Snaps, Jon's connection to her gives him copious clues about her deteriorating mental state.
> 
> But that damned pride. It comes before the fall, y'all. 
> 
> And in this case, not just Ygritte's or Sansa's but his as well. All is fair in love and war, right? If he didn't know it then, he figures it out in the worst (but kinkiest) of ways. 
> 
> We're not done here though! I told you I'd give you some aftermath and it's well on its way. Let's see what a darker Jon will allow himself to do now that he's lost his pride in Sansa's nether regions. ;)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy(ed)!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All!
> 
> I'm back to light your feed up with more dark shit. You know me. Pardon my sporadic appearances. I'm Dionysian by nature and disappear from time to time. Discipline is not my forte, lol.
> 
> Anyway, this is the third installment, (Number two [Acedia/Sloth] is staying true to it's namesake and on hiatus for now until I can get my thoughts to manifest from my brain, through my fingers, onto my keyboard and into a few new chapters.) I'll be splitting this one up into three chapters since the first was quite long. This way you [all] will be able to drink Jon's thoughts in appropriately. Pride is one hell of a sin. Poor guy's in for a wild ride >:)
> 
> Comments are welcome! Hope you all enjoy[ed]!


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